Chapter 12
CHAPTER
Dawn, a soft, milky sunrise, pushes through the gap between the curtains.
I’m on my side. My limbs are stiff and my head is heavy, as if the demons have left mounds of ashes behind.
There must be a balcony or a window ledge outside because a magpie’s high-pitched twittering is close.
I think through what to say and how to behave.
I compile a list. Get up and dress. Eat breakfast. Training starts at nine.
Cocktail party at six. Thorsen’s speech at seven.
There are pillows on my left but only three because Thorsen has taken one to the sofa.
The pillow, and two neatly folded sheets, are stacked on one end of it.
Is his towel still on the hook behind the door or has he thrown it in the bath for the cleaning staff?
His case is closed and sitting just inside the door. He won’t be in this room tonight.
Thorsen, his back to me, is at the desk and his laptop is open in front of him.
His hair is neat and wet. Maybe he used his towel again and it was damp from last night.
He’ll remember everything about what happened.
I only remember some things, but one of those things was my invitation for him to share the bed.
When he declined, I cried like a baby. Pathetic.
The top two buttons of my pyjama top are unfastened so I do them up before pushing back the covers and sitting on the side of the bed.
‘Sebastien.’
He stills as if he didn’t know I was awake, or maybe he’s surprised because I’ve said his first name. He stands and faces me but doesn’t come closer.
‘Thank you for your help last night. I’m sorry I kept you up.’
‘How do you feel?’
‘Well, thank you.’ My voice is pleasingly brisk. ‘Much better.’
‘A headache? Nausea?’
‘No and no.’
A short silence as he takes that in. Then, ‘What would you like for breakfast? I can order it.’
‘I’ll grab a coffee and muffin on my way out.’
His eyes narrow a little. ‘We have to talk.’
Thorsen is not only single-minded, he’s also tenacious. I scrabble to add more items to my list.
‘You can’t have an emergency evacuation by helicopter if the weather is bad and given it’s usually raining and windy on Morrison, that’s most of the time. Even if the conditions were good, many ships don’t have helicopters. There’s no landing strip on Morrison, so I won’t have to go on a plane.’
‘You have panic attacks when you fly.’ He rubs his forehead as if the demons have moved in there as well. ‘Can you confirm that?’
‘I’ve never been as bad as I was on the flight from Melbourne. It’s not only being confined, but the sounds the engines make.’
‘Is this related to being in detention?’
‘I hated being locked up but I didn’t have panic attacks—no engine noises, no vibrations.’
When he looks behind me, I follow his gaze. An air-conditioning vent.
‘That’s different!’
‘What treatments have you had?’
‘I saw a psychologist when I was younger, and another one before I left home for this trip. She gave me strategies and I hoped I could control my fear of flying, but …’ I lift my chin. ‘I have more work to do.’
‘I had a right to know.’
‘If I’d told you, you would have seen me as a greater risk. You wouldn’t have let me come.’
His mouth firms. ‘Lisse …’
When his phone vibrates on the table, I remember I haven’t checked my phone since I got on the plane yesterday morning even though I told Matilda she could call any time she needed me and—
‘Where is my phone? It was in my bag.’
By the time he’s stalked to the other side of the room to fetch my backpack, I’m at the desk with my hand out. I scrabble in the backpack’s front pocket and sag with relief when I don’t see Matilda’s number or any school numbers.
His phone vibrates again.
‘Aren’t you going to answer?’
After glancing at the screen, he curses under his breath. Then, ‘We need to talk.’
‘You’re giving a speech tonight. Don’t you have to prepare?’
‘No.’ He crosses his arms. ‘Last night—’
‘I want to forget last night.’
‘Why did you cry?’
‘My head hurt.’
‘Not then, later.’ His gaze goes to the bed.
‘I was upset about something that happened a long time ago. It had nothing to do with you.’ Chin up, I walk past him to my bag and rip off the tag. ‘I hope your speech goes well.’
Wind whips off the ocean and skitters along the path as I fasten my coat and tuck in the ends of my scarf.
‘I should have worn gloves.’
Robin, puffing a little, bends over to place her hands on her thighs. ‘I imagined a promenade along the waterfront, not a marathon to see the ship. Won’t five nights on board be enough?’
‘I’m curious.’ Mostly, given my spectacular failures in the past few days, I’m frightened. That’s the word Thorsen used when I told him about treating wild birds. I push the thought aside. ‘Anyway, it’s too cold to promenade.’
‘An excellent reason for staying indoors.’
‘Botanists must work outside all the time.’
Smiling, she straightens. ‘I spent my youth in bogs and on the tundra. In middle age, my research interests changed, as did the environment in which I worked.’
‘How many PhDs do you have?’
Laughing, she waves a hand. ‘According to Nature, I know more about Antarctic lichen and climate variation than anyone else on the planet. But much more importantly, I supervise clever, passionate and outdoorsy PhD students, and work with eminent scientists.’
‘They’re lucky to have you.’
‘I’m lucky to be travelling with first-time expeditioners like you, Jerry and Kingsley—it gives me the opportunity to see everything through fresh eyes.’
‘Thank you for all your advice. When I get to Morrison, I’ll take my gloves everywhere.’
‘Thermals will be your best friend.’ She threads her arm through mine and we walk again. ‘I should have treated myself to a glass of red wine by the hotel fireplace.’
‘Just a quick look at the ship, and then we’ll go.’ There are fifty in the ship’s crew, but not as many passengers, so we’ll all have a cabin to ourselves. That should make it easier to hide any fears I might have, but the more I know, the better—
‘The ship will look innocent enough tonight,’ Robin says, ‘but just you wait until the Southern Ocean starts tossing us around. Mark my words, Flick, I’ll be heaving like you were last night.’
‘I’m sorry you had to see that.’
‘I saw very little, thanks to Seb Thorsen.’
When Robin stops for breath, I stamp my feet to warm them. ‘I can slow down.’
‘If we walk at a comfortable pace for me, it’ll take another fifteen minutes to get there and an hour to get back.
’ She checks the time on her phone. ‘Six for drinks and Seb’s talk is at seven.
As this will be my last glass of wine for months and our Norwegian colleague is bound to have something useful to say, I’m reluctant to be late, so will bid you adieu. ’
A brave smile. ‘Save me a seat.’
‘Just out of interest …’ Robin puts a hand on my arm. ‘How did you get on with Seb last night? He hasn’t been forthcoming.’
‘He spent hours walking me to the bathroom and back. It was good of him, of all of you, to help me.’
‘Now we all know about your fear of flying, you can put it behind you,’ Robin says briskly. ‘Particularly as there are no airstrips on Morrison. Seb didn’t cancel your training today, which I saw as a positive sign.’
‘He emailed late this morning, telling me he won’t veto my appointment, but he has reservations.’
‘What kind of reservations?’
‘Emergency evacuation by helicopter could be problematic.’
‘I’m glad he saw sense.’
‘Did you convince him to do that?’
‘As he was in two minds, I suggested he give you the benefit of the doubt.’
When I smile gratefully, she shakes her head.
‘You’re young and fit. An emergency evacuation would be highly unlikely.’
‘Thank you, Robin.’
‘This time tomorrow, we’ll be on a ship heading out to Antarctica.’
When I aim for a smile and fail dismally, she puts a hand on my arm. ‘What’s the matter? Another headache?’
Deep breaths. ‘It might take me a while to get used to the ship.’
‘What? No more panic attacks, I hope.’
‘I had no idea how badly the flights would affect me, or I would have tested myself weeks ago. Being cooped up on a ship might also be difficult.’
‘Cooped up?’ She blinks. ‘This is the point at which you explain yourself to put my mind at rest. What, exactly, are you referring to?’
‘I’ve been on the decks of ferries and even a navy ship and that was okay.’
‘All passengers are confined to their cabins in the evenings.’
‘I know that from chapter four of the safety manual but I’m not looking forward to it.’
‘Does Seb know about this?’
‘There might be nothing to know.’
‘The cabins are small.’
‘I presume you hear the engines all night?’
‘I’d be concerned if I didn’t!’
‘There’ll be that issue, and being below the deck but …’ I cross my arms. ‘I’ll get used to it.’
‘Would you like me to speak to Seb on your behalf? I’ll support you, of course.’
‘If that’s necessary, I’ll do it. I wouldn’t have said anything if you hadn’t been so considerate.’
‘If I hadn’t seen you turn green, more like it.’ After peering at me in concern, she squeezes my arm. ‘This is why you wanted to see the ship.’
‘I want to prepare myself.’
She puffs out her cheeks and expels a breath. ‘Interesting times ahead.’
Robin walks one way and I walk the other. More deep breaths, three in a row, because not only do I have to face the ship, I also need to return my mother’s call.
She picks up on the second ring. I hear lorikeets, so she must be on her balcony.
‘Sorry I didn’t get back to you earlier. Is everything all right?’
‘What if it hadn’t been?’
I do my best to keep my tone light. ‘I hope you’re not feeding the birds.’
‘Seeds, Flick, not bread and honey. I mightn’t have the education you’ve been blessed with, but I’m not as silly as you think.’
‘I’ve never said you were silly.’
‘But you do like to tell me what to do. Anyway …’ She lightens her tone. ‘That’s not why I called. How are you, darling? How are things going on the trip? It won’t be long until I’m on my way to New Zealand.’
‘We’re in Hobart now. The ship leaves tomorrow.’
‘How exciting!’
‘Did you see my email? I’ve upgraded Tipsy-Cat to the presidential package and changed your flight home so you can stay an extra night in Auckland.’
‘I’ve been busy too—yesterday, I found someone to take the flat while I’m away.’
I stop in my tracks, then start walking again. ‘We’ve discussed this already. No subletting.’
‘Candice and her partner are a lovely young couple and if only you lived closer, you’d meet them and agree. Their lease has expired and they’re grateful to have somewhere to live while they find something else.’
‘The lease is in my name. I pay the rent. You can’t sublet if I’m not there to sign the paperwork.’
‘As I’m only away for a month, I agreed with Candice that we’d have an informal arrangement.’
‘Of a fully furnished flat near the beach? What if she has a party and trashes the place? What if she finds somewhere else to live and walks out, or you can’t get her to leave when you get back? Where will she store her own furniture?’
‘Flick! Don’t be so dramatic.’
‘I’m not—’
‘You would never have put me in charge of bringing up two children, would you?’
The ship, painted glossy red and white, is getting close. Yes, it has portholes that will stay firmly closed, but it’s a lot larger than a plane. It also doesn’t fly.
‘Do you ever dream about Matt?’ Immediately the words are out, I regret them.
‘Why ask that?’ Mum’s voice is high and accusatory. ‘You know how thinking about him upsets me.’
Her grief will always come first. Her grief is more important than anyone else’s. After fourteen years, I should know that.
‘I didn’t intend to upset you.’
‘That’s twice today.’
A gust of wind shoots into the harbour. Choppy waves and whitecaps. The ship rolls on the turbulence and its portholes dip towards the water. Nauseous and shaky, I turn away.
‘Flick? Are you still there?’
‘Please, Mum, don’t hand over the keys to the flat. You only met these people yesterday. We’re better off without the income.’
‘That’s all very well for you to say. I have no spending money.’
‘What about the pension payment due next week? Your meals on the ship are included in your fare, as are excursions, activities and a lot of other things too.’
‘We visit ports along the way.’
‘How much do you need?’
‘If you would only let me sublet, I wouldn’t have to ask.’
‘How much?’
‘I’ll be away a whole month.’
‘A thousand dollars. I can’t do more.’
‘Darling, I’m so grateful. Naturally, I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.’
‘Please, Mum, stay within your budget. That’s two hundred and fifty dollars a week.’
The lorikeets again, twittering and chirruping. ‘You’ll miss me, won’t you, my darlings?’
‘Mum. Did you hear me? I’m already in debt. I can’t give you any more money.’
‘You’re having a trip too, aren’t you, darling? It’s a wonderful opportunity, and with four months of steady work, you’ll be able to start fresh when you get back.’
‘I have to go. There’s a function on tonight. A speech.’
‘I’ll have to have my hair done before I go. A cut, colour and foils. You’ll transfer the money tomorrow, won’t you?’
I back away from the ship, half-walking, half-running towards the lights on the other side of the harbour.